


You Are In Love

by TheOnlyException



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, One Shot, bechloe - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 21:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5064307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOnlyException/pseuds/TheOnlyException
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The two times that you refused to acknowledge that you were in love with her, and the third time that you let yourself admit that you're a little bit in love with Chloe Beale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are In Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for the Pitch Perfect fandom, and I apologize that it's filled with fluff but when you've read too many angsty fics, you require a balance.

The first time that you realized - or at least entertained the notion - that you're in love with Chloe Beale, the two of you were walking back to your car, towards that old mustang you still hadn't restored at the time, recovering from an ethereal fit of laughter which was a result of some crappy joke that you can't recall anymore. The melting ice cream bars in your grasp were dripping, its creamy contents trailing down the back of your hand. 

She had leaned over, grabbing your hand by the wrist and pulling you close. You had felt your breath hitch in your throat and your chest tighten, which was strange, because you'd thought after months of dating, this feeling would go away.

She guided her tongue over the milky track marks, laughing when she pulled away, her nose scrunched up in a very endearing manner as she admitted that your ice cream choice was better.

And as she brushed away the stray wisps of fiery, red hair that had escaped out of her messy bun, nose still scrunched up, a strange pull tugged at your chest, relentless and unavoidable. You searched blindly for a moment, trying to put a word, or a noun, or an adjective to what you were feeling.

And then it hit you.

You had realized in that moment, you are in love with her.

You relished the deliciousness of this realization for a moment, feeling a pleasant warmth spread from your ankles to your fingertips. The tingles sizzled through your body like an open flame, and then you recoiled like you were punched,  freezing in muted panic as you struggled to comprehend the knowledge that was bestowed upon you.

You attempted to quell the overwhelming fear that was building inside of you, like a torrent of waves crashing steadily on the shore. You wrung your hands, nearly crushing the melting ice cream bar that was still there. You stood stiffly, watching with wide eyes as she'd trundled off, bumbling off towards the car in complete obliviousness.

You forced back this realization with the stubbornness of ten mules and just shook your head, blaming this strange feeling rattling inside your chest on the June summer heat, because being in love with Chloe was too soon, too early for what normal societal rules constitutes as appropriate in a relationship (not that your relationship was ever conventional to begin with), and it was really too early for your relationship.

_Really._

Or at least, that's what you told yourself.

 

* * *

 

The second time that you'd realized - or at least entertained the notion - that you're in love with Chloe Beale was on a lazy Sunday morning, with both your limbs sprawled and tangled comfortably together in the sheets, and your arm wrapped around her shoulders, her long locks tickling your neck as she leaned into you.

She played with your fingers, tracing over the smooth expanse of skin and bone, as you planted a soft kiss on her temple, her scent of vanilla and wild berries invading your senses in a sweet, tangy rush.

She was starting to hum a song, of which had been her current favorite, under her breath, and you were mesmerized by the melodious lilt of her voice - a voice that you were certain you'd be mesmerized with everyday. You hung on every tone, every reverberated note, every sound that her sweet soprano voice carried out, grasping and gripping onto the memory like it was your only lifeline.

She stopped for a moment after hitting the bridge, and that had snapped out of your trance. You felt awkward, which wasn't new, but you still tried to find a distraction by trailing your fingers up and down on her arm - an action, which she would later reveal after an intense make out session, pupils dilated and breath hitched, that made her skin crawl and feel like it was on fire - and she must've felt it, the awkwardness, because she asked you to join her in the song.

You protested, saying it was far too early in the morning to be singing, and she had rolled her eyes, pointing at the clock resting on the bedside table. 

"It's 11 o'clock, babe," she pointed out with a snort, and you couldn't help but smile, a strange deviation from your usual glare and scowl. Only she could be truly capable of bringing this out of you.

 _God, stop being such a sap, Mitchell,_ you told yourself.

"Come on, join me...you know you want to." She persuaded with a wiggle of her eyebrows, and you laughed at her antics, rolling your eyes and feigning dread, but relenting anyway, because you would do anything to make her happy. To please her.

So you joined her, your voices blending in smoothly together, velvety and enthralling, your different tones and pitches beautifully intertwining into one another as you harmonized.

And as you sung, you watched her, watched her lips pull up in a smile as you sang the notes together, watched her bright eyes light up in glee as she managed to hit a particularly high note, and you felt that strange feeling rattling inside your chest again.

That pleasant warmth was back, not that it was ever gone in the first place, pooling at the pit of your stomach, rolling and rumbling and alive with glee, and you'd panicked again, because it's way too early, way to soon to be falling in love.

And as she nuzzled her head in the crook of your neck, the final notes of the song decreasing into a low hum in her voice, you fought to keep your voice steady, because you knew you were in deep shit.

You knew you were in trouble now.

 

* * *

 

The third time that you'd realized that you were in love with Chloe Beale was during your impromptu trip to New York City. You had managed to save enough money from your DJ-ing gigs to surprise her with this trip as a Christmas present.

When you had presented her with the tickets, she had squealed and launched herself into you, sending you tumbling off the couch and onto the floor. You couldn't help the stupidly goofy grin that grew on your face as you told her that she only had an hour to pack before you both had to go to the airport.

She'd packed with such a speed that had momentarily frightened you, and the both of you had gone off to the airport, with her tugging you excitedly all the way. You'd pretended to protest, digging your heels into the ground without much of a massive effort, that stupidly goofy grin still gracing your features.

After a five hour flight and checking in at the hotel, the both of you had changed into more seasonal appropriate clothing. You had started on contemplating where to go, which didn't last long, because she had picked to go to the Rockefeller Center Ice Rink, much to your (un)muted dismay.

So you stood in line with the crowd, nearly engulfed by the thick throng of huddled bystanders, each pressing into one another to stave off the gusts of cold wind blanketing over the bustling, thrumming beats of the city.

Her gloved hands reached for yours, slim fingers threading through slim fingers, and you felt a lovely static of electricity travel up your arm at her touch. 

"The things I do for you," you teased, the corner of your lip turning in that practiced and aggravating half-assed smirk of yours.

She rolled her eyes - a habit she'd picked up from you, no doubt. You briefly thought it was karma. And well, karma's...kind of a bitch.

"I'm pretty sure you'd commit murder for me, if I asked you to," she said with a flutter of her eyelashes. "I've got you wrapped around my little finger." She held up her free hand, pinky finger stuck out.

"That's not true!" You tried to sound appalled, but all she did was laugh at your poorly attempted denial.

"Uh-huh, sure." She smirked, in a way not unlike yours - karma was being a bitch again - and briefly turned away. 

As the line trickled on, another gust of cold wind ripped past, and you shivered in your coat, tugging her closer to you. You released your grasp on her hand, and wrapped your arm around her waist instead.

"Cold," you muttered, when she turned to you for an explanation.

"You're lucky I'm warm enough for the both of us," she commented with that sweet smile of hers.

"I knew there was a reason why I'm dating you," you smirked.

She rolled her eyes and leaned into you, smiling softly as she took in her surroundings.

Her eyes drank in the sight of couples, families, and friends all huddled together in the line, enjoying the chilly weather together with smiles that aided in illuminating the already shining city.

"Hey, babe?" She said suddenly, eyes now on the couple in front, who were playing with the toddler in their arms.

You glanced at her from the corner of your eye, silently enjoying the peaceful aura she carried with her. "Hmm?"

"I'm actually not feeling well...could we leave?" Her voice sounded strange, almost strangled.

You'd immediately turned to face her, concerned as you yanked the glove off your free hand and pressed it to her forehead to check her temperature. "You're not heating up or anything, which is good, of course...but we should leave right now, just in case."

She bit her lip, pretty lips contorting in a peculiar way, like she was stemming down a smile that was fighting its way to the surface. You stared at her, perplexed until she broke into a fit of giggles.

"See?" She said, allowing that radiant smile of hers to break free as she held up her pinky finger again. "Got you wrapped around my little finger."

You glared at her, fighting off the blush that was blossoming at your neck, because you knew you would've immediately left if she was feeling uncomfortable, several hours spent lining up be damned. Of course, you could never let her know that - she'd never let you live that down.

You shook your head vigorously, the beanie on your head slipping askew to the side as you slipped on your glove again. "I- ugh, you're horrible." 

She leaned over and pressed her lips to your cheek, fingers ghosting your jaw. "That's why you love me," she said, planting a quick kiss on your lips as she pulled away. 

That strange rattling feeling was back, crashing through your feebly placed defenses with a force that matched up with the girl who'd tumbled through and into your heart many years before. 

Your heart hammered in your chest, because you were actually starting to acknowledge the fact you are a little bit in love with her, this gorgeously radiant beauty, with her warm smiles, patient, loving glances, magnificent wit, and her ceaseless kindness. 

You struggled to gather up any semblance of courage you had left in you, and grabbed her hand as it started to pull away, drawing it close to your lips. You glossed over it, smearing some of the lip gloss she'd insisted you wear, leaving behind a faint pink, glittery trail.

Your heart bounced and rattled in your chest, and you felt light-headed as you whispered out the words you should've said the first time it entered your mind. "Yeah, I love you," you smiled hazily, anxiety quavering the certainty behind your words. "So in love with you."

She stared at you for a moment, eyebrows knitted together tightly, and you fought the urge to reach up and massage away the frown in the space between. You resisted the instinct to take it all back, to claim that it was just word vomit and the cold weather had just froze some of your brain cells. Instead you waited apprehensively with a bated breath, as you saw the cogs in her mind turning, and you had decided to give her some time to process - God knows she's given you that so many times in the past.

It felt like an hour had passed through the silence between the both of you, and you'd started fidgeting with the hem of your jacket with your free hand, contemplating on whether to take it all back again. Then she started to break into that signature effulgent smile of hers, and you were immediately assuaged of your fears. You briefly wondered why you were ever anxious in the first place. 

You blamed it on your frozen brain cells.

She pulled you closer, until the both of you were barely an inch apart. You felt her hot breath tickle the tip of your nose. "That's a good thing, cause I'm pretty in love with you too."

You looped your gloved fingers through one of her belt loops, pressing her fully against you with a grin. "That's..." you licked your lips, eyes flicking down to those deliciously plump lips. "Well, that's good...cause that would've been pretty awkward if you didn't."

She rolled her eyes in response. "Just shut up and kiss me, Becs."

You blithely obeyed.

 

* * *

 

So yeah, you are in love with Chloe Beale. You would've fallen in love with her eventually. There's no denying it - it's a fact, like two plus two equals four, fishes need water to survive, and the sun literally shines out of Chloe Beale's ass. You're dense, but you're not a complete moron - despite what Aubrey Posen always tells you - and you knew what you had in front of you, you just didn't have the courage to stop living life at a comfortable distance, to stop accepting loneliness as preferred solitude, because before Chloe had walked into your life, you never realized how lonely it truly was, how it wasn't contentment you were feeling. 

Chloe Beale taught you what love actually was - hell, that girl is love's incarnate itself - and you've never stopped being so grateful for that day in the shower, when she had basically forced you to sing for her, stark naked, refusing to leave you alone until you had sang her lady jam with her.

You've never stopped thinking that was the second best decision you could've made in your entire life. 

The first time being the time that you had gathered the courage to kiss her.

You're starting to acknowledge that you're completely, wholly, utterly, and stupidly in love with her. 

And the thought is less daunting when you know she's pretty in love with you too. 


End file.
